


and the waltz goes on.

by mostfamousestofhobbits



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: AU, Ballroom Dancing, Dancing, First Dance, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 13:37:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2653970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostfamousestofhobbits/pseuds/mostfamousestofhobbits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>jensen does the waltz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and the waltz goes on.

**Author's Note:**

> listen here. i am the edna mode of english. no caps! written once again for writinginmargins, who gets a sad one this time.

jensen shivered nervously as he waited backstage. ‘should’ve worn a hoodie today,’ he thought, glancing down at his fall out boy shirt and faded jeans. this was nuts. he’d enrolled in ballroom dancing classes so his sister wouldn’t feel alone, but she had mysteriously disappeared with someone about half an hour ago, and said someone had looked an awful lot like the substitute dance instructor.

"of course she thinks i do a good waltz. of course. i mean, i  _can_  do a good waltz, if i’m feeling it, but i don’t know-” who to feel it _with_. the point of dancing as a couple was to show the world how well you worked together. he wanted to work well with someone, to flow in and out in time to the slow beat-

he shook his head.

"that sounded an awful lot like sex," he muttered.

"what did?" said a heavily accented voice behind him. he shivered again. 

"uh, nothing." he turned to see a slim man with long dark hair and a leather cowboy hat standing behind him, grinning slightly. ‘jesus h. tapdancing  _christ_ … if i could kiss a dude…’ he stared for a second, and shook his head rapidly. the man was grinning a bit wider now. jensen stuck his hand out.

"jake jensen." the man’s grip was firm and cold, and he squeezed jensen’s hand gently before letting go. ‘oh god. is he- no. no way anyone would like him would. no.’

"carlos alvarez." jensen nodded. "i understand your sister thinks you can dance the waltz pretty well?" jensen shrugged and laughed sheepishly. carlos nodded, then grabbed jensen’s hand and pulled him out onstage.

"what-ah. ah. okay." carlos spun jensen into position, his warm hand gripping jensen’s left shoulder blade a touch too tightly. carlos nodded up at someone (probably the sound guy), and the lights lowered briefly. there came the sound of applause.

“ _by sir anthony hopkins, his beautiful waltz, “and the waltz goes on.”“_ there was a pause, then violins began plucking out a beat. carlos waited until the clarinet started to begin the dance. jensen nearly tripped, but regained his composure and followed carlos’s lead. the piece was sad- well, not sad. melancholy. gloomy? morose? what exactly was-

carlos spun him swiftly, then pulled him in a touch too close. jensen nearly tripped again. carlos was sure and steady, and they swayed in unison for a good five minutes. as the song went on, jensen found himself moving more in time with carlos, until they were almost perfectly in sync. his hands were sweaty. the hand on carlos’s shoulder was probably going to leave a damp patch on his sky blue button-up shirt.

during the cheerier bit, carlos leaned in and whispered,

"call me cougar," then pulled away and winked. jensen nearly tripped again, almost taking car- _cougar jesus_   _christ_ \- with him. but, mostly due to cougar’s efforts, they remained upright. they fell back into rhythm quickly. jensen knew his face was completely red.

as the song ended, getting louder and more dramatic, cougar gripped jensen’s hand tightly and spun him several times, dipping him at the end of the passionate violin and orchestra swell. the sound cut out as the recorded applause began, but the applause kept going. jensen gulped. cougar righted him, turned to face the rest of the class, and bowed, pulling jensen down with him. they righted themselves, and cougar held up jensen’s hand and gestured to him. jensen bowed again, straightened, and gestured to cougar. cougar grinned at him and him alone. they went backstage, cougar still holding his hand. cougar’s hand was sweaty too, or maybe that was just jensen’s hand, but either way it was weird. cougar’s hand was still cold. it was kind of gross.

cougar seemed to be looking for something, and made a pleased noise when he found what looked like a storage closet. he tentatively twisted the doorknob, sighing in relief when the door opened, and yanked jensen into the room ahead of himself. jensen stared. the room was full of old costumes and curtains. faded sequins glittered faintly in the light from the open door. cougar began feeling around for a light switch. jensen looked up, saw the outline of a string, grabbed it, and pulled. a single lightbulb came on with a click, flickered, and stayed lit. cougar closed the door and leaned against it for a bit, looking down. jensen cleared his throat.

"so. this…this is. um. interesting, i guess." cougar’s face was hidden by the brim of his hat. all jensen could see was a sliver of his goatee-covered chin. jensen ran his fingers through his spiky blond hair and sighed. he shrugged and said, "so now what? why did you dance with me? did my sister talk you into it?" cougar chuckled, and shook his head. "okay. so why?"

"i’ve been watching this class for a while now, from the sound booth. you-" cougar looked up at the ceiling, biting his lip. god, it was se- _something else_. not that. anything but that. nope. cougar sighed and looked down again. “you were perfect.” jensen’s face flushed again. he hated blushing. it made him look like a chubby twelve-year-old again.

"i  _was_  perfect? or i’m still perfect? wait, no, scratch that, scratch that. why? how? what do you mean by-” during jensen’s babbling, cougar had taken off his hat and set it gently on a box of wigs. he straightened up and strode toward jensen. he regarded jensen for a second, then pulled jensen’s head down and kissed him. jensen froze. cougar’s lips were ridiculously soft, too soft. and cold. how in the hell were a man’s lips that soft? more importantly, what was the difference between a man’s and a woman’s lips? even more importantly,  _why the fuck was jensen getting kissed by the sexy latino dance instructor?_

cougar pulled away. jensen’s eyes had been open the entire time. he’d been staring at cougar’s eyelids and surprisingly long eyelashes. cougar’s eyes flicked open and stared directly into jensen’s. jensen inhaled shakily, and swallowed. cougar looked hopeful, tense, afraid. jensen tried clearing his throat, but choked and started coughing. cougar smiled faintly as he tried to calm himself down.

"have you never been kissed by a man?" cougar asked when jensen regained his breath. jensen shook his head, and laughed. he felt giddy. whether it was the new sameness of being kissed, but by a dude, or whether it was the fact that sexy waltz dancer carlos "cougar" alvarez had been watching him dance and had decided he was worthy of sexytimes, he wasn’t sure, but he felt…his heart was beating differently, jumping and shuddering. he felt faint. suddenly he remembered all the doctor’s visits and the hushed conversations he’d overheard on the phone between his sister and someone else. he was probably dying. his heart had been damaged during his time in iraq- excessive strain or something- and he’d gotten a murmur as a result. lately though, what with the stress of being unemployed and his ptsd, it had gotten worse. his sister had suggested dance lessons as a way to relax.

cougar’s icy hands were on his shoulders. he realized he was on the floor, gasping, chest heaving. cougar gripped his chin, jerked his head upright, and kissed him again. jensen’s heart calmed right down. it calmed down so quickly, so suddenly, that he got dizzy. everything went black.

cougar watched the ambulance pull away from the studio, a tightness in his chest. he stared at nothing, remembering the stinging shock of the bullet in his shoulder, remembering falling out of his perch and dangling from the safety line, a flailing target for all to see. he remembered strong arms reaching up and stopping him from spinning, remembered being cut loose, remembered being carried out of the line of fire. he remembered the round glasses and the blond hair, the earnest, frightened blue eyes, the square jaw he’d longed to caress. he remembered, as he clutched his hat and stared until the ambulance faded away. the sirens were on for a while, then they stopped. his heart clenched, squeezing out a tear from his eye.

"vaya con dios, ángel," he murmured, and put his hat firmly on his head. he had other souls to reap today, in other parts of the world, but he’d asked to send this one off. it wasn’t every day someone saved a reaper’s life.


End file.
